


Baby, You and I

by rachhell



Series: south park drabble bomb [5]
Category: South Park
Genre: Anxiety, Character Study, Established Relationship, High School, Implied mental illness, Insomnia, M/M, South Park Drabble Bomb, Stress, first snow, or something, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachhell/pseuds/rachhell
Summary: Tweek has insomnia. So does Craig. Tweek has issues, but so does Craig. They can meet in the middle.More of a Tweek Tweak character study, and a little glimpse into their relationship, than anything else.Written for the South Park Drabble Bomb Winter 2017 - day one, first snow.





	Baby, You and I

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't even going to write anything for the first prompt because I've been real busy but, well, here I am.

_ One-thirty-three a.m. _

It was Friday and Tweek couldn’t sleep. He could never sleep. His feet were sticking out from underneath his comforter, into the sharp, chilly air of his room, and he glanced down at them as he wiggled his toes. He liked it cold, generally, especially if he was trying to drift away into slumber. Swaddling himself in flannel pajamas and adding more blankets was a preferable alternative to trying to get comfortable in oppressive, sticky heat, even if it was Colorado in the middle of October, and the heat pumping into his room was artificial. 

_ “Been a long time since I came around,” _ he whisper-sang, softly to himself. He’d get songs in his head, random songs, with no rhyme or reason to them, that would follow him all day, from when he woke up and hopped into the shower and belted them out, to the classroom where he’d hum them softly under his breath while trying to decipher math problems that he could never get himself to fully understand, to when he’d lay in bed, alternating his gaze between his phone -  _ blue light is bad for your sleep cycle, Tweek _ , he heard his therapist’s voice drawl in his head - and the ceiling, and the window -  _ is it locked? Oh god -  _  and back. 

_ “This time, I’m not leaving without you.” _

* * *

_ One-fifty-eight a.m. _

His pajama pants were twisting around his body as he tossed and turned in his bed. One leg stuck out from the pile of covers. He shook his foot at the ankle, back and forth, and propped it against the smooth wood of his bedframe. For a few moments he thought that perhaps his feet were  _ too  _ cold, so he tucked one leg under the other in a ‘4’ formation. That didn’t last long, and it was out again. He hummed a few bars of the same Lady Gaga tune, and resumed tapping his foot against the bedframe. There had to be  _ something _ . 

He didn’t want to read the news, that’d just make him nervous and once he began to drift off, he would jolt back to reality with visions of nuclear holocausts and starving children and  _ fuck, shit, they’re gonna get me! _ He’d tried tossing an arm over his eyes to block out all external light, but that just made him concentrate more on the song in his head, which he was beginning to hate, and the events of the day, him giving the wrong answer in front of a class full of sophomores -  _ because I’m a junior and and I’m a moron and I don’t understand numbers, maybe I’m retarded, should I be in special ed? - _ and starting early by accident in choir, and  _ fuck, god, I’m such a fuck-up. _

He played a game on his phone, some time-wasting bubble shooter, and gave in to the song in his head, turning it on repeat at the lowest volume his phone could play, that he would still be able to hear.

* * *

_ Two-twenty-four a.m. _

His phone vibrated in his hand while he scrolled through some vapid, clickbait gossip site, which made him jump and kick his foot against his bed. Craig.

_ Babe, I can’t sleep _

He exhaled a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to bother Craig tonight. He knew that he had an important paper due in human bio, and he’d been stressed lately, and while he was usually the first person Tweek would go to when he was having anxiety, or insomnia or worries, or, well, anything, Tweek had been so in his own head lately. He wanted to try it alone. He didn’t want  _ help _ anymore. Still, his stomach leapt up to his heart as soon as he received the message, and swiftly tapped back,

_ Me either been trying for hours now _

The phone emitted a short dot of vibration and  _ Glad I didn’t wake you up _ popped onto the screen, followed quickly by  _ Come over? _

_ 2 am booty call??? Slut,  _ Tweek texted back, hoping that sarcasm would be translated through text since he really wasn’t feeling up to it tonight and was just joking around, and when Craig responded with an eye-roll emoji and  _ I don’t want to bang, I just can’t sleep. Pervert, _ Tweek laughed softly.

_ K but meet me halfway at playground they might get me if i walk alone _

* * *

_ Two-thirty-eight a.m. _

He was wearing his pajamas outside, blue and green plaid flannel pants and matching shirt unbuttoned over a baggy t-shirt from Park County High’s production of  _ Brigadoon _ his freshman year. His name was on the back -  _ Tweek Tweak….. Charlie Dalrymple -  _ amongst the rest of the cast list, hidden underneath his pajama top. He tossed a too-big jacket that Craig gave him over the ensemble, burrowing his hands into the floppy, long sleeves.

The night was still and crisp, the air was sharp like tiny frozen knives in his nostrils and it was beginning to smell of winter. South Park usually smelled of snow, and cows, and, in the greener months, the earthy smell of soggy dirt and plants creeping through the remnants of frost upon the ground, but now it was just  _ winter _ . Empty and thin and cold.

* * *

_ Two-forty-seven a.m. _

Craig was rocking himself back and forth on a swing, a toe of his sneakers dug into the gravel to support his motions, and his head, sans hat, was leaning against the swing’s chain. “Were you singing Lady Gaga on the way here?”

Tweek screwed up his nose. “Stuck in my head all day,” he replied, and held out a hand to hoist Craig up from the swing. “L-let’s go, dude, it’s late and who  _ knows _ what could be out here. Or who.”

“It’s getting cold,” said Craig. “Glad I gave you that coat.”

* * *

_ Three-oh-five a.m. _

They were a block away from Craig’s house when the first flake fell. Tweek noticed it in Craig’s hair, a fleck of white that disappeared mere moments after touching bed-tousled, jet-black strands. Another followed shortly after, and then the heavens opened upon two boys in their pajamas, out past their bedtime. It was a thick, dripping snow, unusually heavy right off the bat, and Tweek grunted and picked up the pace of his steps.

Craig trailed behind him, slowly, and stared up at the sky. “Snow,” he said, simply. “It’s snowing.”

“Ngh, ah, no shit,” Tweek said. “I’m wearing slippers, fuck.”

Craig smiled at him, and took Tweek’s hand. He had to push back the sleeve of his old jacket to get to it. “Everyone else is missing out,” Craig said softly. “They’re going to wake up, and they’re going to see that it snowed in the middle of the night, but only you and I can say that we witnessed it.”

Tweek scoffed. “Just you and I? I, ah, don’t think  _ we’re _ the only people up right now.”

“Shut up, you’re ruining the moment.” Craig squeezed his hand. “It’s pretty.” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and, with a brush of Tweek’s unruly, snowflake-ridden hair, kissed him. Craig wasn’t the sterile harshness of winter or the wet sadness of the snow beating down upon them. He was warm, and his lips were soft, and his hands were big and safe around Tweek’s waist and he was perfect, and he was  _ his,  _ and he was Craig’s.

The snow made their hair limp and heavy, the shoulders of their jackets dusted with white. Before he turned the key into the front door of his house, Craig kissed him again.

* * *

_ Three-forty-five a.m. _

Their clothing was damp, but neither changed. They sat on Craig’s bed, staring out the window at the snow, a blanket wrapped around them.

Craig cleared his throat. “Tweek. Are you okay?”

“Are  _ you?” _ Tweek retorted.

Craig’s thin lips were a downturned line. “I’m just really stressed. Haven’t been sleeping well. It’s just school and stuff,” he replied, and left it at that. “Are  _ you _ okay, baby?” The way his dull blue eyes widened and softened when he’d asked that, the way his voice shifted into genuine concern and love, a tone which Tweek heard only from him, made Tweek forget about walking home in slippers tomorrow, about Jordy Hanson laughing at him in math class, about college tours and scholarship auditions and potential dangers around every corner. “You’ve been avoiding me. Avoiding everybody. Is something wrong?”

Tweek leaned into Craig, resting his damp head on his shoulder, and said nothing.

Craig kissed his forehead, and wrapped his arm around him. His knuckles stroked Tweek’s arm, up and down on the soft flannel. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now. Let’s watch the snow til we pass out.”

* * *

_ Seven a.m. _

Craig forgot to shut his curtains. The sun beaming down upon their sleeping forms jolted Tweek from his, for once, restful sleep. Craig was curled into him, his face blank and content and beautiful, and Tweek felt a little guilty when he extracted himself from his sleeping boyfriend to walk across the room and close the curtain, but Craig didn’t stir.

Outside, the ground was a heavy blanket of white. The sun reflected off the snow, making it shine blue and bright, too bright, almost blinding. Tweek didn’t want to look at it just yet. He could pretend it was night again, and that it was a normal time to sleep when he pulled the blackout panels across Craig’s window.

_ Something about, baby, you and I,  _ he thought to himself with a smile, and the song finally faded from his brain.

And, with Craig there, he  _ could  _ sleep, without any songs or worries about explosions or school or anything. It was just  _ them. _ Nobody was coming. He was safe, and they slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Song in Tweek’s head is “You and I” by Lady Gaga


End file.
